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A Kingdom of Ends/Chapter 3
"Hey!" A woman's voice startles me awake. "Wake up, girl!" I grimace as I open my eyes. "Wh-where a—Ow!" I feel some pain on my head. "You have some nerve sleeping in front of my shop!" The woman behind me yells. There's a rolled-up newspaper in her hand, which I assume is where the pain in my head is from. "Leave before a customer sees you!" I look around in confusion. I was just in my room. How am I… here? "Did you not hear what I just said, you filthy child?" "Filthy?" I stand unsteadily. "You dare speak to your crown princess in such a manner?" The woman snorts. "If you're the crown princess, then I'm the queen. I don't think I knocked your head hard enough for you to start having any grand delusions, did I?" The question is concerned but the tone is mocking. "I am not delusional," I reply. "I am Francesca Annabelle Tudor, crown princess of England and the only daughter of King Edward Tudor VI." "Right," she nods. "Well, you talk like a royal. I'll give you that." I stare at her, puzzled. "Our good king does have only a daughter, Princess Thomasine. And you most definitely are not her." Princess Thomasine. What…? "Now get going before your crazy gibberish scares away any customers!" With a huff, she leaves me to my own rapidly turning thoughts. I quickly realise that I am wearing tattered clothes, and I do not even have shoes on. "No, no, no…" This cannot be happening! This is… It all floods back. Last night. My mother… This is not a dream. I've become a pauper. This must be a curse, and the person in my bedroom last night must have been a witch. My hands begin to tremble. It makes it a little easier at least, referring to these new circumstances as a curse cast upon me. I was cursed last night, forcing my existence from princess to pauper. And to fill in the blanks, Thomasine became princess in my stead. Perhaps Thomasine may even have a hand in all this. I must return to the palace to speak with the king. The walk is painful upon my bare feet, but I make it to the gates with the sun peeking over the trees. "Let me in," I tell the guard. They look at me carefully, taking in my appearance. "Sorry, girl, but the palace if off-limits to uninvited guests." "You don't understand." I try to stand a little taller. "I am Princess Francesca Annabelle Tudor. I must speak with my father." As loathe as I am to call him that, I have to. No one will believe me if I am addressing my father by title. Another guard approaches. "You best leave now, kid. Nice and quiet. Before we have to force you." "If you would only—" I am interrupted by yet another palace guard. "Make way for the King!" The gates swing open and three horses trot out. Soldiers ride the two leading horses while the last has a different, much more familiar rider. "Father!" I immediately call out to him. The words taste strange in my mouth. I move to block the path of his horse. The two guards talking with me at the gates rush forward as well, "Your Majesty!" The king looks at me briefly, then to the guards. "What is this?" "Your Majesty, this girl is claiming to be your daughter." "Daughter?" The king repeats. "My daughter is in the palace right now." I take a sharp breath. Even my father is a part of this? I look up at him. "Father, you must help me. I've been cursed." For once in your life, just once. Help me. "Tell me, where is your family, child? Why are you all alone?" He looks at me with pity in his eyes. He looks at me more kindly as a pauper than he ever did when I was a princess — when I was his daughter. He smiles sadly at me. I recoil. "You must be hungry. Take this." He takes something from his horse's saddlebags, and holds it out to me. "This should feed you and your family for a day or two." I see a pouch in his hands. "The kingdom also offers work opportunities to those who need them. Please, let your parents know." The pouch is forced into my hand. I can hear the soft jingle of coins. "I do not want your pity. Father—" "Please escort this girl back to her home safely," the king says. The guards nod. "At once, Your Majesty." I watch as my father and his two guards ride away on their horses, leaving me to stand in their dust. He left me alone. Again. The same guards who refused me entry earlier now look at me stiffly. They walk me away from the palace, both of them flanking my sides. "Where is your home, girl?" I do not have an answer. There is nowhere left for me to go. Father has... forgotten me. I can try to find my mother, maybe. But chances are, she doesn't remember me either. "Leave me," I tell the guards. One guard speaks up. "Now look here, our orders were to—" "Leave. Me. Alone." I place emphasis on every word. They look at me for a while, then at each other. "Suit yourself." "Don't cause any more scenes, girl," the other guard warns. I watch with bleary eyes as they return to the palace. I look down to stare at the pouch in my hands. I do not know what hurts more. The fact that I have been unceremoniously paraded from my home like I am nothing more than a piece of garbage. Or, that my own father does not recognise me. I take a deep breath and begin walking slowly back to the center of town, when I catch the sound of two noblewomen loudly discussing among each other. "Oh, look at how hideous her clothes are! What is that girl wearing?" Her companion laughs. A grating noise. "How difficult it must be to be poor." They are talking about me. I clutch the pouch closer to my chest as I run into an empty alley. I huddle in a corner, trying to make myself as small as possible. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that when I open them, everything will be as it was. ---- I am still on the streets when I open my eyes. The sun is low on the sky, close to setting. I must have fallen asleep. Yet the nightmare continues. I am cold in my rags, the fabric too bare to save me any warmth. The sun does not seem to make it this far into the alley. I hold myself tightly, to will some of the cold away, to keep myself from falling apart. I fail. I get up and decide to walk. My feet are numb and in pain, caked in dirt from walking barefoot around town. The same noblewomen from this morning are walking along the sidewalk, probably returning to their homes after a day out in town. I doubt they recognise me — not as the princess and not as the pauper they were bullying earlier today. "Well, there's a frightful sight," one of them points at me. Have these women nothing better to do? "Beggar probably thought she could try her luck with the nobility that come by here," her friend replies in the same tone. They laugh together. "Just take a look at how ragged she is!" When they look at me, I take the opportunity to meet their eyes. "What are you looking at?" A noblewoman sneers at me. I try to gather some pride. "At two women who lack the basic manners of a noble upbringing." "Do you know who you're talking to?" She scowls at me. "No," I shrug. "And I don't care." She looks ready to pounce on me, but her friend lays a hand on her arm. "Let's just go. No reason for us to stoop to a pauper's level." They leave me be without another look. I grit my teeth. I will remember them. When I am princess again, I will make them regret their words. Soon, the afternoon fades away and the sun finally sets. I become acutely aware of the fact that I have not eaten in almost a day. I just sit where I am, thinking on the new mess that is my life. I try to make sense of it. My name is Francesca Annabelle Tudor, daughter of King Edward Tudor VI and Crown Princess of England. At least, that's who I used to be. That was before yesterday. Before 'my mother' came into my bedroom last night and gave Thomasine Canty everything that was once mine. Everyone has forgotten my name, my birthright. I am no more than a lowly pauper now. This may be my destiny, but it feels like being trapped in a nightmare. This is not how my destiny was supposed to go. I am not supposed to be alone. I am not supposed to be bloody cursed. At least, I am sure it's a curse. What other way do I have to explain it? A witch — or a mage or even a fae — came into my bedroom wearing my mother's face and retconned my entire existence. This is a curse. And I must break this curse. I will break this curse. Somehow. My stomach notices that I've finished organising every objective thought I have about my situation, and it grumbles for my attention. I don't have the choice to ignore it. I will figure out what ways I can break this spell later. First, I must find food. I bring out the pouch of coins that king gave me this morning. The coins jingle as I shake it slightly. Is this all the king thinks I am worth? I stand up shakily and try to find somewhere I can get food. Soon enough, I find a restaurant. I approach the door, being drawn by the smells of a supper being served. A man stops me before I enter. "Not here. A dirty peasant like you has no place in my restaurant." "But why?" I pull out some coins from my pouch. "I can pay." He looks at the coins, then at me. "Find another place then. You're scaring away my customers." "Am I'' not a customer?" He shakes his head. "I don't have anything for you." I open my mouth to argue, but I can already tell that continuing this conversation will just lead me nowhere. I ball my hands into fists and walk away. I get the same treatment in the next three restaurant I try. I am treated like ''dirt, like something less than dirt. As if the money I hold out to them has no real value. I am almost in physical pain because of the hunger. But if I am to survive, then I must try. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a small bakery. There are some pastries on display and just looking at them make my mouth water. The chimney is clear, so I can only assume that the oven isn't running anymore. All that's on display must be what's left of the day. I begin to make my way over there. My feet ache with every step and they look and feel even worse than earlier. If only I had enough coin for a pair of shoes. But food is more important. If the rags that I am wearing and the pouch of coins is all I have, then I need to prioritise. If I have time to complain, I have time to think about my situation and figure out a solution. And I will die before I beg. I walk up to the bakery. "Two croissants please." The baker looks at me with a cold look on their face. "You'll need to pay. We don't give free handouts here." I take a coin from my pouch and hand it to them. "This should be worth at least three croissants." They stare at the coin before taking it reluctantly. As I had guessed, they hand me three croissants in a paper bag. Their eyes meet mine cautiously. "I will not ask where you got those coins." I swiftly take the bag then, worrying that they can take it out of my reach if I do not do it sooner. "Are you implying that I stole them?" "How else would a beggar like you get that amount of coin?" Their head cocks toward the pouch of coins in my hand. "Now off with you. I won't have you scaring away any customers that could pass by." Without another word, I turn and walk away from the bakery. So this is the goodness of the people that my father speaks so fondly of. I take one of the croissants out of the bag and bite into it. I savour the flakiness, but cringe a bit since it's starting to go cold and stale being out in the air all day. Before I know it, I've inhaled whatever is left. My stomach grumbles, not quite full but slightly sated. I drift aimlessly. I mean, what else have I to do from here? Wait for someone to ask me to leave again? "Hey, girl!" A voice leers at me from behind. Another one rings from my right side. "Hey, I saw you at that there shop. Wanna share how you got those coins?" I do not stop walking. Their laughs are cacophonous as they approach me. The man on my right sharply grabs my wrist. "Look at 'er, brushing us off like she's royalty or somethin'." Oh, if only they knew. I struggle. "Let me go!" "What? You think you're better than us." The man on my left comes threateningly too close. "Why don't you just be a good girl and hand over the coin?" He grabs at my pouch and attempts to yank it away, but I try my best to maintain a hold over it. I steel my resolve. I will not allow these brutes to take anything from me. I elbow the man in the stomach and aim a kick at the other man's shin. I wrench myself free from the two of them and run as fast as I can. I saw an opening. I took it. "Hey!" I hear them shout after me. I don't know where to go from here. I am not exactly familiar with the streets. I might just end up in a dead end. In a moment's decision, I force myself down the street on my left and weave in and out of pathways from there. I run. I run. I run. I cannot let my exhaustion or the pain in my feet stop me. If I stop now, they'll definitely catch me. ...And taking my money is not the worst thing they can do. I keep running, and just as my luck would have it, I run into a dead end. The two men make it to me quickly, now that I've cornered myself. "Where you gonna go now, girl?" My breath is heavy with fear as I step backwards, pressing closer and closer to the wall behind me. This is it. This is how the story ends for me. "Well, this isn't how you should treat a lady." Another voice calls out. A shadow looms above us, and I assume above is exactly where the voice is coming from. The two men are bewildered. Before I can blink, a person jumps down in front of me. I look up. They likely jumped from the flower box in the building at my right. Their body acts as a barrier between the two men and me. In the moonlight that makes it into the alleyway, I catch a glint of blond hair. "Who—" Then I see the green eyes. Revolt Charming. I know it's still early into the evening, but what could he be doing out here? Does he just moonlight as a knight in shining armor for beggar girls in town? It's not unlikely, given the stories I've heard about his brothers. He holds a rapier in his hand, brandishing it forward. He turns to the two men — his expression calm, his smile small, his eyes flashing dangerously. I've never seen Revolt like this. Yes, I may have snapped his temper the other day, but this doesn't look like anger. The light in his eyes comes off almost like excitement. "Would you like me to teach you men a lesson?" "H-he's got a sword!" The man who grabbed my arm earlier scuffles away. Revolt smirks and points his sword at the one who remains. "Your friend has the right idea. I'm not the type to show mercy." He shakes his head vigorously while backing away. "This is way too much trouble for a bag of coins." I heave a sigh of relief as they run away. Revolt turns around with a smile on his face, "And here I was, expecting a fight. You alright, Princesca?" What? My head is pounding and my legs feel both frozen and on fire. My stomach rumbles against me, the hunger coming back with a vengeance and breaking through the adrenaline. "Woah. Hey, hey, are you okay?" No. No. I am not. Revolt rushes forward. Maybe to catch me. I feel like falling. "Just... just hang in there, Princesca." Everything fades, and the only thing in my mind is that someone knows me. Category:Subpages Category:A Kingdom of Ends